The Great Fear


confession

 

The great rifts of the plates under the surface,
Are only slight tremors to us.
The dolours that we call small, we fail to realize
Are not small at all.
These are the dolours that we give to each other.
And when the expected, much awaited epiphany we do not hear,
We turn to ignorance, preferring an oblivious state.
We fail.
We fail.
We fail.
We fail to realize that we deceive ourselves in doing so.
The great rifts of the plates under the surface
Are only slight tremors to us.
Our actions and words raise tempests under phlegmatic personalities
Nothing is wrong, it seems to us.
But, yet again, we fail,
For we are under the Devil’s snare.
And then a time comes when we manage to conquer our seemingly impregnable fears…..
The fear of hurting our own ego and pride,
In “fruitless” attempts to save another’s.
It is, indeed, a terrible fear,
A terrible fear, indeed.
But more terrible and verocious if provided a petri dish.
More terrible and verocious if fed.
To burn it away is better, much better.
To burn it like a bonfire,
To drown it like the Titanic ,
To forget it like a bad memory,
To kill it like a guilty convict.
To end that Fear is better, much better.
For it eats away several thousand lives,
Like a termite eats away the wood,
Like a fly feasts on sugar.
It is better to burn it like a bonfire,
Because peace and tranquility will be its ashes.
And after causing great tremors and cacophony
The peace and tranquility will be like harmony,
It will be as welcome as spring is after a long spell of snowfall.

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8 thoughts on “The Great Fear

  1. I write poetry, too.
    I also live where it’s winter for more months of the year than it’s not, so I can really relate to the last line of your poem!

    Like

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